


Dance With the Dead

by PierceTheRainbowKid



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: All of the additional characters die dw, All of the relationships are pre-established probably, Assassin AU, Because i dont wanna make people suffer, Except for maybe nyma, F/M, Im not good with killing off major characters so probably not, Klance are already together man, Klance is the most important one tho so, Klance-established relationship, M/M, No one important dies, RoLo, other ones like them, plaxum - Freeform, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 14:36:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12434859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PierceTheRainbowKid/pseuds/PierceTheRainbowKid
Summary: Voltron is an assassin guild, and this fic is going to be super edgy (in case you hadn't figured it out yet)I promise I'll fix this later but I only have one chapter right now and I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this concept so bare with me, I promise it's a good read.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaa I ran out of space in the summary screm
> 
> Anyways I hope that this story hasn't already been done, but it's gonna be a fun one! Not exactly sure where it's going rn but I'll come up with an actual plot later :)

It was just past dawn, when the sun had barely just pushed it's way into the sky, and Keith was starting to regret some of his recent life choices. He was standing on a sidewalk in a quiet part of LA, his jacket pulled tight around him and his hood pulled up in an attempt to shield himself from the cold. His eyes scanned his surroundings warily, waiting for the woman that he was supposed to be meeting up with. 

As a general rule of thumb, Keith did neither mornings, or women. He's was here for the coffee and the generous pay he would get after this was all over. He glared up at the out-of-place clock tower in a building across the street from his current position, the constant reminder that he could be in bed right now, wrapped in warm blankets (and his warm boyfriend). A cold breeze swept past him, making dead brown leaves dance along the pavement at his feet. He shivered and glanced around again, finally spotting his “date”.

The woman looked almost exactly the same as she had on her Tinder profile. She was average height, with bleached hair that was more white than blonde, and was frizzy and fried from over treatment. Her face had a few wrinkles in it, especially around her mouth and eyes. They weren't smile lines, like Shiro's or Coran’s, but rather from constant squinting. She was thin and frail-looking, with bony hands and red stiletto nails appearing from the sleeves of her leopard print coat. Despite it being early, she wore large sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Keith had to plant himself in one spot to stop himself from walking away at the sight of her. 

When she spotted him, she grinned and waved a bony, clawed hand, her high heels making uneven clicking sounds against the pavement. She had a limp, Keith thought. 

He removed his hood and smiled at her as she greeted him. Her lips were painted the same shade of bright red as her nails, and were thin and cracking. It was hard not to gag as he allowed her to kiss his cheek. He hated this already. 

“Allen, it's nice to finally meet you!” she exclaimed, looping her arm through his and beginning to lead him away. “I know this quaint little French cafe a few blocks from here that will be perfect!” 

“It's good to meet you as well, Margaret. Actually, I got us a seat at a cafe already. My friend works there, he got us in before the place even opens,” Keith replied, trying to imitate Lance's easy, flirtatious smile. 

She giggled behind her hand. “Well then, lead the way, sir!” 

Keith didn't like this one bit. He kept reminding himself that it was only for a few hours, then he could go home and hug his boyfriend and complain about his awful morning and she would be dead. 

They made small talk as they walked to the cafe, Keith pressing a button in the lining of his pocket to let Hunk know that they were close. He pushed open the door to the coffee shop and held it for her, trying for another charming smile. She talked non stop, dropping names every few words, and never staying on the same topic for more than a few minutes. Keith directed her to a booth in the back, taking her coat and hanging it on a hook. 

“So, what is your friend like?” she asked, leaning forwards and resting her chin on her hand. 

“My… friend?” Keith gave her a confused look.

“The one that let us in so early!” she clarified, with another sickening giggle.

“Oh! Yeah, he's really nice. Sweetest guy you'll ever meet,” Keith said, nodding.

“Hey you two! Know what you want?” A familiar voice appeared. Keith almost flung himself at his friend

“Hi Tim,” Keith smiled at his friend. 

Tim wasn't his real name, just as Allen wasn't Keith's. Aliases were vital to surviving in their business. His real name was Hunk Garrett. He was tall, over six-foot-four, and built like a tank. His dark skin was smooth and soft (having Lance as a best friend will do that, though). He had a large nose and a wide, calming smile. His dark hair was only kept out of his face by an orange bandana. 

“This must be him!” Margaret exclaimed, batting her eyelashes at ‘Tim’. She had taken off her sunglasses now that they had gone inside. She had cold, clear blue eyes, which were a bit sunken. They were tinged yellow, too, probably from her apparent smoking habit. 

“I'll just have a black coffee, thanks Tim.” Keith nodded. 

“And I'll have a London fog, please.” Margaret said, “Four sugars.”

“Coming right up!” Hunk said, then looked over at Keith. “And you still owe me $10, Allen.”

“Yeah, yeah, gimme a second,” Keith sighed, digging around in his pocket. He pulled out a $10 bill, and a long, thin, closed off tube full of something fatal. He handed it over to Hunk, who grinned wider and took the cash and went to get their orders ready. 

Margaret talked more as they waited for Hunk to come back, and some of the words that came out of her mouth made Keith wish he could kill her right then and there. She threw around slurs, she was ignorant about everything that had ever happened in politics, she went so far as to say that Trump was the best president in U.S. history. Keith wanted to go home. 

When their drinks came, she asked Keith more about himself, basically grilling him for answers. She asked him about his job, he told her that he had a boring office job. She asked him about his college major, he said accounting and business. She asked him about political opinions, he avoided the question, not wanting her to leave before she finished her drink. 

They fell silent. Keith sipped his coffee and looked out of the window, watching as the sky got more and more blue, and less and less orange. It was a cloudless day in mid winter. He couldn't wait to start enjoying it.

Finally, they could leave. Keith paid the bill and held the door open for her on the way out, and they said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. 

Keith couldn't wait to watch the news the next morning


	2. Chapter 2

Lance was waiting for him in the kitchen of their apartment. Keith couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he kicked off his shoes and dropped his jacket on the bench by the front door. 

“Wow, you aren't covered in blood for once,” Lance joked, pulling Keith into a warm hug. 

“I don't always come home covered in blood,” Keith mumbled into his boyfriend's shoulder, breathing in the scent of cinnamon and Cologne. 

“Usually you do,” Lance responded, kissing Keith's temple. 

When they pulled apart, Lance led them to the kitchen table. He had already laid out breakfast. There were two plates sitting there, waiting for them. 

“Finally, something to live for,” Keith sighed as he sat down and scooped tater tots and fruit salad onto his plate. Lance laughed, high and clear. Keith fell in love all over again every time he heard that laugh. 

“Careful, you might choke on the only thing worth living for!” Lance warned, his voice full of amusement. 

Keith ignored him, shoveling pancakes and eggs into his mouth. He was suddenly glad that he hadn't eaten at the cafe. 

“So, how did the mission go?” Lance asked, his hands clasped around a mug of sweet smelling tea. 

“The victim was awful, and soon she will be dead. Remind me to stick to infiltrate and kill missions please,” Keith replied around a mouthful of tater tots. 

“How awful?” 

“She told me that Donald Trump was the best and most successful president in U.S. history.” 

“Holy fuck, that's bad.” Lance leaned back in his chair, eyebrows rising. 

“She had to be, like, 50 years old too. She was the worst Cougar I swear to you.” Keith couldn't help but laugh. The prospect of him going on a date with an older woman was ridiculous. 

“Man, for once, I'm glad I'm not you,” Lance chuckled. Soft music drifted through the air from the speakers in the living room.

Keith didn't respond, savouring the peace and serenity of home. 

“Why did she have someone wanting to kill her?” Lance asked. “You know, despite being an ass.”

“Apparently she murdered someone's children and managed to get out without being charged,” Keith explained, frowning and pushing his pancakes around with his fork. Lance didn't say anything in response. 

Their breakfast was finished in silence. Lance offered to clean up, but Keith shooed him away. He heard the TV turn on in the living room and carefully put the stack of dishes into the sink. He couldn't help but feel the need to scrub his hands clean of that awful woman’s blood. He knew that, technically, he wasn't the one who killed him, but he felt dirty, somehow. 

He finished washing the dishes as quickly as possible and took a very long, very hot shower. 

Guilt was a bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is really short and really boring!!!


End file.
